Taking It All In His Stride
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: Marcus Flint was proud and content with his life. As a chaser on the English Quidditch team he had fame, fortune and hordes of women around him. However, one girl attracted his attention like no one else, yet it did not mean that attraction was not based on the most honourable reasons.


**A/N:** This is written for the One Hour Challenge, the Favourite House Boot Camp with the prompt 'daydream', the Character Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt 'princess' and the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt 'besmirch'. This is also my first (slightly) smutty fic that is not Bellamort!

As well, please keep in mind when reading this that it is rated M for a reason. There is sex and there is also swearing. Moreover, there are some not so nice comments about women and people who are homosexual. Basically Marcus is just not a nice person at all when the muse started to talk to me.

For a final note, when reading this fic, it should also be noted that Marcus is not the most reliable narrator. He does not know the motivations behind the actions of others.

)o(

Marcus was not sure how it had started. It had just been sprung upon him like a leprechaun had seen fit to bless him with some promising luck. However, from then until now, it was not something he could find it within him to complain about. After all, luck did not always shine fondly on Marcus Flint.

It had all started from one night of celebrations after his first game in English colours had resulted in the trouncing of the Irish by a record margin. He had even scored seven goals himself so, in his view, he had been justified in downing whatever number of beers teammates and fans had put down in front of him.

After all, it had been his night. Never having much faith in academics or politics, Quidditch was what Marcus breathed and, even if it meant he had to shake hands rather than punch his teammate Oliver Wood, for the great game, he would do it. The game had given him too much; fame, fortune and a circle of birds who swooned over his every word.

Despite a bit of a sway in his walk, he had already started hunting for the best chick to fuck that night. He was quite content in deciding between one woman with massive tits which were just under his eager eye and another with a tight red dress and short hem that gave him a glimpse every now and again of black lace.

Either would have done (or perhaps both if he would have played his cards right), but, as he had made his way to the bar for another beer, he had literally run into a blonde stunner who had somehow taken his mind off the two chicks.

That one encounter had caused a frantic fuck in a shadowy alleyway outside and in turn spawned many afterwards.

Just like now.

She was tight and wet around him as he thrust into her willing body an animalistic groan sneaking from his throat and the smallest whimper from her soft lips as he crashed his own against her. He had stripped her of her fine robes and her ornate hairstyle that made her like a princess and reduced her as his and only his. She was meant to have been the perfect society wife and he had besmirched her so she was just his whore.

She did not groan his name. She never had, but she rocked her hips to meet his every thrust and sunk her nails into his back like some great big cat. The only thing that turned him on even more were her eyes which were filled with passion and desire all for him. In those moments, as he pumped in and out of her as hard and as fast as he could, he knew he was all she thought about. He knew he was engraving himself on her memory.

It was the thought of how much he possessed her rather than her clenching around his cock that made him come inside of her with a loud cry, "Astoria!"

He was shaking he knew that as he collapsed onto her body unwilling and unbothered about propping himself and instead half collapsed onto her his hands idly caressing her tits. All he knew what that this was bliss. This was good and this was great and wonderful.

He did not set about pondering or wondering why she fucked him. He did not think it was at all relevant. Birds loved him. He was on the bloody National Team why wouldn't she want him?

The only thing he liked to think about was to know that she must want him more. She must want him more than her own husband- Malfoy.

Everyone knew that arrogant prick was worth nothing more than his illustrious name and fortune. Somehow he had avoided any sentence in Azkaban after the war; no doubt because he was enough of a snivelling coward to suck Potter off to be released. He had positioned himself in his great manor house and continued to lord it all over everyone else. Life was somehow perfect for Malfoy when he married Astoria Greengrass whose family line was impeccable and she was easily the most desirable women of their generation.

However, in the comfort of his own bachelor pad in the centre of London it did not matter. Malfoy's wife kept seeking him out and he got to fuck her. Marcus almost wished Malfoy could walk in to see what he had done to his perfect princess and how he had ruined her.

A part of Marcus wanted Astoria to speak up and say the truth. He wanted her to say how much she wanted Marcus and not Malfoy. He was not sure what he would want to hear; that Malfoy was so shit in the sack or that he just preferred to take it up the arse like the poof that Marcus always knew he was.

It was enough to make Marcus smile and, even though he was not horny any more, he still leaned over and pressed his lips into the hollows of Astoria's throat. A moan did not leave her lips and her eyes only barely flicked down to him as he sucked and bit the sensitive flesh.

Next to the actual fucking and when she blew him, it was his favourite part. He got to mark her body for Malfoy to find. Astoria got to go home and Marcus got to imagine the look on Malfoy's face when he realised his wife had not been faithful. It was brilliant. He could imagine the brilliant fight that would occur and be heard all over Malfoy Manor.

Normally that was all he thought, but, on some nights after Astoria had left and the warmth of her body had gone he started to think differently. He started to long for her body to return. In the darkest depths of his mind, he day dreamed about Malfoy and Astoria fighting so much that she left.

That she came to him.

It was those thoughts that he both loved and loathed. After all, Marcus always swore he was not so soft and as much of a pansy to think that way.


End file.
